


The song will remain (the joyful, joyful remix)

by redsnake05



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: F/M, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-04 23:22:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4156836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redsnake05/pseuds/redsnake05
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is said, in the stories of the first days, that there were three songs that shaped the world. This is the story of the song that Queen Helen brought to Narnia, in the beginning of the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The song will remain (the joyful, joyful remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the_rck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_rck/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Genesis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/214384) by [the_rck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_rck/pseuds/the_rck). 



It is said, in the stories of the first day, that there were three songs that shaped the world. First, the song of tall golden wheat and gracious abundance, sung by King Frank in the midst of his uncertainty in the dark after time began. Second, the wild song of the Lion that brought the world to life and to light, the song of beginning and making and living. Few remember the third song, because while we know that Queen Helen came to us with soap suds on her hands and an apron round her waist, few remember she came with a snatch of song still on her lips, which, as she fell silent, fell likewise to the rich, living earth.

>>>>

Helen straightened up with a stifled groan. She was quite sure that Queen Victoria, bless her, never had to plant her own vegetable gardens. She surveyed her little garden in satisfaction, taking in the neat wooden edges, the rich black soil the moles had thoughtfully turned over, and the straight rows of seedlings, and decided that Queen Victoria was missing out. She knew she would complain every time she had to weed it, but the carrots and beans would be delicious.

Strong arms encircled her from behind and Helen jumped slightly before relaxing back. She wasn't quite used to the open affection Frank shared with her here. London was a place where gestures happened inside, with the curtains closed and the lamps turned down. They used to shut out the damp, gas-lit fog of the night and move slowly together, but this land was different. To stand under the sun in Frank's embrace was still new, but she already loved the light that illuminated them.

"I thought you were sowing wheat today," she said, bringing up her hands to clasp over his wrists.

"It went much more quickly than I expected," he said. "I wasn't as out of practice as I thought. I thought I'd take a look at the house."

Helen hummed and relaxed back against Frank. Despite his words, he seemed in no hurry to move. She enjoyed the sun on her head, the warmth of Frank's body against hers, the clearing in front of them, rolling down easily to the river and the apple tree near it. She could almost hear the growl of the Lion as he spoke to them, confirming that this land was theirs, to shape and work and guard. No, Queen Victoria had nothing on Queen Helen's joy, not for all the Castles in England.

>>>>

Helen had never imagined a world where it felt so good to be alive. Her childhood had been hard; too little to eat and too few clothes, and a new child every other year to stretch resources even thinner. Her mother's singing had become sadder and softer each year, but she'd kept the kindness in her eyes till the end, when Russian 'flu took everyone but Helen in the little cottage. She'd left soon after, locking the door one last time on a cold day with the flower beds bare and not even a single song in the hedgerow.

Helen hadn't sung again for many years. She'd moved to London, with her sharp-faced Uncle and his silent wife. She worked in a hat factory with cheerless fabric flowers that were limp under her fingers. Until she'd met Frank, London had been a grey place of hard cobblestones and a cold attic room. She'd only been vaguely aware of him, until the day he stood next to her at church and shared her hymn book. She'd felt the song stir in her heart again.

She felt the joy of song in her chest now, as she stood next to Frank on a slope leading down to the river, as Aslan walked up towards them. Frank's hand closed around hers and she shifted a little closer to him. 

Asking for things was hard for her. She'd lost the habit young, when asking for more of anything brought a sorrowful look to her mother's face. She'd learned to make the best of what there was, to stretch every scrap of material through many uses until it wore so thin she could see through it, to make food go as far as it could.

Frank had never expected to be asked, though. He'd bought her ribbons to trim her plain gowns, flowers to delight her eye. After the wedding, he'd continued to make their simple lodgings as warm and bright as possible. His ability to bring her the things she needed without her needing to tell him was magical. 

Aslan was a little different, she could tell. He liked to be asked, liked that people would think of the future between his paws and prepare to meet it in the spirit of his love and joy. She prepared to ask him for the gifts of knowledge and materials, so that they could build this world in the lion's image. Gripping tighter to Frank's hand, feeling his unhesitating love and support, she prepared herself to speak.

>>>>

Helen heard a soft humming by her feet and looked down. Frank huffed a laugh into her neck as two hedgehogs, each holding birch cups nearly as big as them, puffed up the last of the slope.

She pinched Frank quellingly on his arm. Monarchs did not laugh at their subjects, even if they were adorable and obviously concentrating hard on not dropping their burdens. Frank let her go reluctantly and she bent down to graciously accept the cups from the toiling beasts.

"Thank you," she said.

"Not at all," one of the hedgehogs said. "We're not so good at digging or planting, but we want to help."

Helen sat down and patted the ground next to her for Frank. The hedgehogs established a spot on her skirt by her knee and gazed up at them both. Frank took a long drink of water that Helen knew was to cover his desire to laugh again. She took a sip and listened as the hedgehogs started to hum again. The song was familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. It sounded like it had been made for this land, but it wasn't the complicated, wild music Frank had described to her, nor yet the harvest hymn he'd confessed to singing in his confusion in the dark.

"What is that you're humming?" she asked.

"I don't rightly know," said one of the hedgehogs. "I just found it on my tongue, so to speak."

Helen nodded and took a drink of water. It sounded like the sort of thing that might spontaneously jump to one's tongue here. It was full of light and joy, and Helen could almost feel it bursting from her own mouth.

"It's funny, how we just know things," continued the hedgehog. "When we don't, though, we know we can ask you." Helen's heart melted as the hedgehogs both gazed up at her with tiny smiles on their bristly faces, and she vowed anew to guard and guide these precious creatures as best she could.

>>>>

Frank drew her into his arms in the middle of the space marked out for their new house. The sun was sinking low behind them and Helen turned her face up to Frank's kiss with a happy smile. His lips on hers were warm and his shoulders strong under her hands. She kissed him back and they stood in the last light of day, locked together.

She drew back at last, breathing unsteadily. She wasn't sure how to ask for what she wanted, and thought this might be something Frank wouldn't know without her speaking. Squeezing his fingers, she raised her eyes to his face. The broad smile there was uncomplicated, just like he must have looked in his youth, before London started pinching him with worry. 

"I want," she started, but broke off, averting her face. Plucking up her courage again, she took his other hand and squeezed that too. "I want to stay here tonight. To lie here tonight."

Frank was silent, and Helen peeped up at him, worried that he disapproved. He looked a little bewildered and Helen realised she hadn't been clear. She brought his hands up to her breasts and held them there, cupping her flesh through her practical gown. She saw enlightenment dawn on his face and felt her face flame. The next moment she was swept back into his arms and he was kissing her again, passionately, warmly. He let her go reluctantly so they could gather their temporary bed, build their temporary hearth, and settle into the dusk in the outline of their permanent home. Later that night, he slipped the practical cloth from her shoulders and kissed where his hands had been. His tongue and lips worked together on her skin to flush it pink with desire and joy, not shame, and she pulled him closer.

They loved together under the stars, and Helen grasped her husband's shoulders and held him close as they laid the foundation of their home in the joy of their bodies and hearts.

>>>>

The house was half-built and Helen surveyed it happily as she sat on the grass with Frank's strong shoulder behind her and two hedgehogs curled up at her knee. The walls were half up, made of a beautiful warm creamy stone that the dwarves had shaped to a seamless fit. Big windows let in the sun, and Helen could just imagine the windowboxes she'd fill with hyacinths and violets in the springtime.

The hedgehogs were humming again. Helen was sure she knew the song now, and she let the joyous roar of a lion fill her mouth. She sang, and it was the music that she made for Narnia.

_Joyful, joyful, we adore Thee, God of glory, Lord of love;_  
_Hearts unfold like flowers before Thee, opening to the sun above._  
_Melt the clouds of sin and sadness; drive the dark of doubt away;_  
_Giver of immortal gladness, fill us with the light of day!_

_All Thy works with joy surround Thee, earth and heaven reflect Thy rays,_  
_Stars and angels sing around Thee, center of unbroken praise._  
_Field and forest, vale and mountain, flowery meadow, flashing sea,_  
_Singing bird and flowing fountain call us to rejoice in Thee._

**Author's Note:**

> The hymn this song uses, [_The Hymn of Joy_](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Hymn_of_Joy) (also known as _Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee_ ) was actually not written till 1907, and not published til 1911, but I hope you will all forgive my anachronism for the sake of a song that captures the first beauty of Narnia.


End file.
